


Just Punishment

by Naemi



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Choking on dick, Conditioning, Facials (mentioned), Forced Anal, Groping, Hurt with a tiny hint of Comfort, M/M, Rape, Spit As Lube, Unwilling Arousal, forced deepthroating, implied loss of virginity, rape as punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-12 22:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21484102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: Leander sinks to his knees. He knows he has no choice.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	Just Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheeon/gifts).

> Dear sheeon,
> 
> I sincerely hope this is along the lines of what you expected. So … happy Naughty Listing, I guess? ^.^

After several days in a dark, dank cell, the dim light of the torches along the castle's rough-hewn stone walls stings Leander's eyes. The men escorting him—if pulling him forward by his leather-bound wrists qualifies as such—are grimly quiet, but even so, Leander knows where they're supposed to take him.

Eyes cast to the floor, he bites his lip and bravely walks on. He's shivering, but it's not the cold that slowly turns his heart to ice; it's the knowledge of the punishment to come. A punishment for taking barely what he needed to sustain his sisters through another night.

When the guards stop, Leander squares his shoulders. He looks up, determined to face his fate with all the courage he can muster. It takes him a moment to register he wasn't brought to the great hall but a bed chamber instead. Behind him, the door slams shut.

Movement on the far side of the room makes Leander turn his head. Next to a table, cast in golden candlelight, stands the Duke clad in a silken, untied bathrobe that does nothing to hide his sex.

The Duke beckons him closer, and Leander's feet obey of their own accord.

“Ah, the thief,” the Duke says with a deep, resonating voice. “You may be pleased to hear your sister plead your case in such a way that I decided to spare you from the common sentence for theft. You may keep your hand.”

The relief that floods Leander for a heartbeat is gone the next moment.

“Punishment, however, is still in order. You stole from me; that remains a fact. I hereby sentence you to learning your place under my care, so you may become an exemplary subject.”

The Duke waves him closer still, and again, Leander moves to stand right before his Lord, even while he's still trying to untangle what he just heard.

Casually, the Duke reaches for Leander's crotch, brushes his bound hands aside, and squeezes him through the thin layer of cotton.

Instinctively, Leander backs away.

“You will obey,” the Duke says firmly.

Leander hurries to nod.

The Duke squeezes him harder, and although it borders on painful this time, Leander's cock twitches in an inappropriately familiar way.

After a last good squeeze, the Duke lets go, only to shove his hand inside Leander's pants. Leander’s dick reacts to the touch once more, and the disgraceful betrayal of his own body burns his cheeks.

“I see you're an eager man,” the Duke says as he strokes Leander. “There's no shame in that.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Leander whispers. His bottom lip trembles at the unwanted touch and his own reaction, and he casts his eyes to the ground. If he behaves to his Lord's content, he may be allowed to return home fairly unscathed. His sisters' well-being, their survival, depends on it.

Thus, he stays still, albeit his body maintains its treachery. Soon, Leander is fully hard and, much to his dismay, feels a moan threatening to leave his mouth. He bites it back, but the Duke is relentless and skillful, and soon, Leander can't keep the sounds from escaping anymore.

Abruptly, the Duke releases him and steps back, and the faint hope that Leander may get away rather easily dissipates like smoke.

“Kneel before your sovereign.”

Leander sinks to his knees. He knows he has no choice. His chest tightens as the Duke grips his hair to nudge him towards his crotch.

“Now show me proper respect.”

Leander closes his eyes, as if that might change his grim reality. After exhaling slowly, he starts licking the Duke's cock, which is hard and firm below thick, dark curls.

The sovereign hums to announce his satisfaction then grabs Leander's chin to prompt him to open his mouth wider.

Yet again hoping his ordeal might be over soon if he simply obeys, Leander sucks the tip of his Lord's cock in and is caught by surprise at a sudden forward thrust. It bruises his throat and renders him breathless. Leander's eyes fly open.

Before he can adjust, the Duke pulls back out and pushes back into his mouth again with more force. Again. And yet again, too many times to count, with ever harder thrusts and ever shorter respites, until he _stills,_ his dick lodged impossibly deep in Leander's throat. 

Panicked, Leander tries to push the Duke back, to no avail. It seems the harder he struggles, the firmer he's held. It hurts, and he can't breathe_—Can't breathe, please, I don't want to—_

Suddenly, the Duke sets him free, and oxygen rushes back into Leander's system. He coughs violently. His throat is sore, his heart beating so fast he thinks he must pass out any moment.

“Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Leander watches as the Duke proceeds to stroke himself hard and fast. The man's hips twitch—“Open your mouth wide!”—and merely a minute later, accompanied by a loud groan, he spurts over Leander's face, on his cheeks and lips and tongue. Leander manages to flinch but barely. All the while, his mind repeats a mantra of _It's over._

But of course it isn't.

“Remember this. All of it. You will be tested on it tomorrow.”

~ ~ ~

It takes several nights before the Duke declares he is finally content with Leander's abilities to “kneel and accept.” Every one of these encounters is a reenactment of the first, varying only in duration and minor details, such as Leander's hands being untied as a “sign of good faith” and remaining that way when he proved to possess no more desire to put up a struggle than before.

Clad in his ever-present robe, the intricate pattern of which Leander has thoroughly memorized for no reason other than to distract his mind, the Duke now points to his table.

“Bend over.”

With a heart like lead, Leander obeys. He needs no further commands, as common sense tells him which fate awaits him next, but the Duke provides them anyway, until Leander stands with his legs spread wide, his chest down on the table, his hands grasping the far edge in preparation of the ordeal to come.

For a moment, nothing happens. All Leander hears is his own breath and heartbeat, all he feels is the wood against his torso, firm and strangely reassuring. Then, footsteps and the rustle of fabric.

Leander's cotton trousers are yanked down. He squeezes his eyes shut as the Duke reaches between his legs to stroke his dick.

Despite Leander still refusing to accept his inevitable physical reaction, he knows to be vocal about it nonetheless; it appears his Lord quite enjoys Leander's moans and murmurs. Perhaps he considers them a sign of thorough subjection.

Tonight is a little different, most likely because of the Duke's change of plan. Leander is barely hard when he hears a spitting sound, and the next moment, wet fingertips feel their way into his cleft. The Duke stops stroking him, uses his hand to part his cheeks instead, and then smears his saliva over Leander's hole.

Leander's hips buck up at that strange touch, and he bites his lip to keep from moaning, for this time, it feels like forfeiting his dignity.

He flinches when a finger probes him. His muscles clench as if to stop the intruder, but it doesn't do much else than intensify the sting.

It's gone the next moment, but Leander is certain he won't be given much of a reprieve, and true to that, the Duke withdraws his finger to immediately replace it with his dick.

Pain winds up Leander's spine like a venomous serpent. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to breathe through it, breathe it away, perhaps, but it's too intense.

Knowing this is only the beginning, Leander clutches the table's edge tighter, holds on to it as if for dear life. All he focuses on in the minutes that follow is the table that steadies him when a particularly deep thrust threatens to make his knees give out or when a new surge of pain threatens to drown him.

Just when Leander believes he cannot bear any more of this before snapping, despite a desperate effort to cling to sanity, it's over. He still waits for the next deep thrust that never comes when he is pulled up and turned around to face his Lord.

Although his body protests any movement at this point, Leander attempts to sink to his knees to provide the usual finish, either out of reflex or perhaps conditioned habit. He's surprised to see the man is spent.

“I am quite satisfied with you so far,” the Duke says. He wraps his hand firmly around Leander's cock. Against all odds, it shows a definite interest in the touch. “Therefore, you shall be rewarded.”

Exhausted, Leander gives in to whatever comfort he's granted.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit**, who also made sure all characters were returned unharmed.


End file.
